


Good Together

by foxseal



Series: forget me not [2]
Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 16:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16391564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxseal/pseuds/foxseal
Summary: Epiphanies don't normally happen during a rerun of a famous actress' biopic, but it's important to both Minhyun and Seongwoo that they reach a conclusion together.





	Good Together

**Author's Note:**

> ❀ title from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YH3ArVgkw6I) song by honne, though the lyrics don't necessarily match this fic!

Minhyun isn’t even making them watch Transformers for tonight's movie date. 

He also didn’t insist on switching to the House Hunters episodes he religiously tunes in to over dinner (there’s just something exciting about judging people’s choice of real estate, okay) and conceded to Seongwoo’s choice of his favourite actress’ biopic—a fact that is both new yet unsurprising to Minhyun. He'd joked that the actress looks a lot like one of their classmates in Art History—the violinist, with whom they sometimes share lunch breaks together—Seongwoo had just laughed and punched him in the arm. 

So that’s how they end up with not-Transformers playing on TV and a bowl of popcorn in their laps; yet despite all the concessions Minhyun made, it soon becomes apparent that Seongwoo’s focus is elsewhere.

“Seongwoo.” When there’s no answer, Minhyun leans over to tickle the sole of his foot from over the blanket they’re sharing. “ _Seongwoo_." 

“Yes!” said man replies a little too loudly for a small studio occupied by two. “What is it?” 

Minhyun snorts, eyes still glued on the screen where the narrator is recounting the actress’ first Academy Awards red carpet walk. “Stop using the hot chocolate as mouthwash, I can hear you _gurgling_  from all the way here.”  

There’s a gulping noise and it makes Minhyun chuckle.  _You make it sound so disgusting, Hyunnie!_  is the reply Minhyun’s expecting, complete with a pout—but Seongwoo only laughs nervously and puts his hot chocolate mug down, teeth poking out from his awkward smile.

Frowning, Minhyun stops him by the wrist. Seongwoo’s fingers curl. He’s uncomfortable, and Minhyun doesn’t understand why. 

“I didn’t say _not_ to drink it.” 

“It’s getting lukewarm.”

“Want me to make you another one?” Minhyun says, already getting up.

There’s a tug on his shirt. “No! No, it’s okay.” Minhyun looks back to see Seongwoo smiling, the lopsided smile he sometimes throws Minhyun from across the lecture hall when they catch each other’s eyes. “Just stay. Please?”

“You’re saying no to hot chocolate?” he settles back onto the couch, leaning forward with a grin. “Who are you and what have you done to my Seongwoo?” 

Something flickers across Seongwoo’s face and they are close, so close that Seongwoo can tip his head up a little and their lips would meet—but instead he bursts into a small laugh and leans away to drown himself in the pillow fort they’ve constructed around the sofa. 

Minhyun chases after him to place a small peck on his lips anyway, if only to push away the slight disappointment on his conscience.   

Several minutes of the movie passes by in silence and Minhyun starts to get agitated. It is never silent with Seongwoo—not even during movies, where he manages to comment on even the most trivial detail (the brightness of the special effects, the volume of a side character’s laugh, the impossibility of the deus ex machina ending). Moreover, Seongwoo isn’t even cuddling up to Minhyun like he usually does, even when Minhyun waits the appropriate three and a half minutes. Fueled by the incessant thundering of his heart from restlessness, he scoots closer to rest his head on the crook of Seongwoo’s shoulder; tentatively, unsure if it’s a welcome presence or not. On their first date, Minhyun would have never thought he’d be the one to let Seongwoo in on so much. Three months later, he’s toeing the edge of his own comfort zone, initiating contact that means more than just playful banter, learning to speak through the language of touch. _Please talk to me. I’m here. Are you okay?_

There’s a hand on his hair; a light caress, asking him to look up. It’s a mistake, because Seongwoo’s face is so open, so vulnerable, and there are unsaid words in those eyes and suddenly Minhyun wants to hit mute on reality, let the movie play on forever in the background. 

Minhyun’s never felt desperation like this before—it's inexplicable, but he lets it propel him anyway. He swings a leg over Seongwoo’s lap and cradles his nape in a hold that Minhyun hopes isn’t too possessive. 

“Since you’re not watching the movie,” he says by ways of explanation, before dipping down and kissing Seongwoo. 

Minhyun doesn’t go slow—opens up his mouth at first chance and coaxes Seongwoo’s tongue in, swallowing his every exhale like he’ll perish otherwise. He presses their bodies closer together as the kiss turns deeper, but then Seongwoo slows him down, leans back to press hard, but close-mouthed kisses on his lips instead. It makes Minhyun push back, trying to steer them back to the bruising pace he set before. 

_Please don’t say anything._  

“ _Mmm_ —hey, Hyunnie, I—I gave this some thought—“

“Should’ve kept it,” Minhyun says, and it doesn’t come out as a joke.

“I mean—“ Minhyun sticks his tongue into Seongwoo’s mouth again. _Shut up_. “Wait, I just thought—“ he nips on Seongwoo’s bottom lip and the latter lets out a moan, but there is only surprise in the noise. _Shut up, shut up._  

“Can’t it wait?” Minhyun asks when Seongwoo gently pushes him away, leaning back so he’s just out of reach—and Minhyun’s entire body is screaming at him to do _something_ before Seongwoo gets in another word edgewise, because nothing good is going to come out of it— 

“Hwang Minhyun.” 

And at that moment Minhyun knows exactly what Seongwoo’s going to say.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Minhyun says softly, the clarity of it crashing down on him like the built-up wave of a tsunami.  “The violinist?” 

Seongwoo’s silence is worse than any straightforward answer—faced with blank spaces, Minhyun is compelled to fill them in with his own answers, even when he knows every single one of them will be wrong. 

In the background, someone cracks a joke, and the actress lets out a laughs.

“How did you know?” 

It’s such a silly question to ask—like Seongwoo has no idea that Minhyun spends every waking hour thinking of him, watching every flicker of his eyes, every quirk of his mouth; that Minhyun trips over himself trying to keep them both in an endless dance, if only to keep Seongwoo interested in what romance was; that he wrings his wit dry trying to make Seongwoo laugh. 

That Minhyun hangs onto his every word like he’s the lifeline to Minhyun’s quicksand of a heart, pulling him in deeper and deeper into an emotion he has no control over. 

How can Minhyun not know what longing looks like on Seongwoo when he chases after the very same look every day? Even when he's realised they are not for him, Minhyun turns a blind eye anyway—because he’s convinced himself he can survive by constructing elaborate lie after lie; that although Seongwoo’s heart lies elsewhere, Minhyun is still in possession of a piece of it. A portion he gets to keep just for himself. 

(After all, Seongwoo is here with him and still hasn’t left.)  

“You’re always so expressive.” 

Now he knows he owns not even a fragment of Seongwoo’s heart. How pathetic Minhyun's lie must be for it to crumble under a single, simple truth: 

“You don’t look at me the same way you look at her.” 

Seongwoo’s grip on Minhyun’s waist tightens. Minhyun wants to read it as regret, but he is still not fluent in this language of touch yet, and he’s afraid that if he looks up he’ll see relief in Seongwoo’s face.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Minhyun lies. “I had a… guess, even before we started dating. I still thought you were worth a shot.”  

“You knew from the start?”

Minhyun wishes Seongwoo would stop talking like he isn’t the central being around which Minhyun’s entire world revolves. “Yes.”

“Minhyun, I’m so sorry.” Seongwoo says softly—it’s there, the pity that Minhyun abhors so much. He closes his eyes—and apparently Seongwoo takes this as a cue to spiral down into even worse apologies, because he says, “You know I love you, right?”

“You—you can’t—“ Minhyun winces, feeling the pinprick of tears behind his eyes. “God, you can’t do one thing and say something else. That makes you a hypocrite, Seongwoo.”  

“But really—these past months, I don’t regret any of it.” His arms wrap around Minhyun’s waist, like it pains him to think of letting go. Minhyun can’t take any more lies, and wriggles out of his stifling hold. “Minhyun, I wanted to tell you—but we just, got on so well. I thought it would work and I thought I could fall in love with you—and I _do_  love you, but—“

“Just not in the way I wish you would, yeah,” Minhyun spits out before he regrets it. Guilt on Seongwoo’s face sounds like a better option that pity at the moment. “I get it.” 

He sounds so apologetic, shuffling in the house slippers Minhyun lent him and have since become his own.

“I wasn’t just messing around with you.” 

Minhyun makes a mental note to throw them away later.

“I know.”

He thinks about all the paraphernalia of their relationship he’ll have to throw away later before Seongwoo’s hand drifts down to hold his gently. Minhyun doesn’t know what to make of the touch—he’s lost in translation. 

“I’m really sorry we had to end it like this.” 

“…Me too.” 

“Do you—do you want me to stay with you tonight?” 

Minhyun laughs at the ridiculous joke Seongwoo has the nerve to crack during a moment like this, before he looks up and realises that Seongwoo is dead serious. 

“Really, Seongwoo?” he says in a half-whisper out of sheer disbelief. Minhyun doesn’t say how _bad_  it would be, lying next to Seongwoo in his arms while knowing he can never be in his heart. He wants to tell him how painful it would be to stay awake all night trying to figure out what having their legs tangled up together means, in the context of not love-making, but of love-destroying. 

But he can’t say it—the two-lettered word he so desperately needs. Minhyun spends so long trying to resurrect the battered-down construction of his lies for the word  _No_ that the floors start to swim in front of him. 

“Minhyun—oh my god—“ Seongwoo’s face slips into view and Minhyun blinks at the tears falling onto his lap, surprising even himself. “Fuck—no, wait, it was supposed to go better than this—“

Minhyun curses under breath and wipes at his face, tipping his head back. “It’s okay—I’m fine.” 

He takes one look at Seongwoo’s crestfallen face and realises he's lying to himself—guilt will never be a good look on Seongwoo, after all. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he plasters on a smile, his cheeks hurting. “Go get her.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” Seongwoo’s voice is hard. “I’m not leaving you in this state.” 

“I want to _be_ alone.” 

“And you think I’m going to be able to sleep if I leave you alone like this?” 

Minhyun wants to argue that it shouldn’t matter what Seongwoo would or would not be able to do tonight; he’s not the one getting his heart stepped on. Neither of them should pretend this will be the only night Minhyun will spend in tears like this, anyway.

“Let me stay the night,” Seongwoo pleads. “Just until you…”

“Yeah,” Minhyun says, because there’s something about Seongwoo that always manages to knock down even the sturdiest of walls Minhyun tries to build. “Okay. Fine.”  

Seongwoo takes it upon himself to turn off the neglected TV and clear the coffee table quickly while Minhyun remains motionless on the couch, unable to do anything but blink back the stinging tears. He lets Seongwoo gently pull him down to lie back along the couch, pressed up along his side, and doesn’t say anything when Seongwoo’s arm hovers over him; worried, tentative. After a short moment of hesitation, it wraps around his middle, and Minhyun wishes he was better at the language of touch so he could decide whether there’s any love for him there or not. 

Minhyun lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes and tries to imagine Seongwoo holding the violinist’s hand on a date—her long, slender fingers in his firm, steady ones; her laugh against the soft tenor of his voice; her soft lips against his warm ones. He tries to imagine them in the music room together—Seongwoo marveling at their graceful, practiced movements with an awe he’s never shown Minhyun, praises her with the same words Minhyun’s heard in a tone Minhyun will never get to hear, and decides that yes, he understands. He understands why he must tear a piece of his heart away so Seongwoo’s can be whole.

Some people are undeniably good together—and Minhyun doesn’t sleep that night, wondering why Seongwoo can’t see that they, too, can be good together. 

  

**Author's Note:**

> ever wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of that 'turns out i've loved my best friend the entire time omg i'm sorry dating u was a really bad idea' trope...? me too........ so i tried to stick minhyun on that other end........ except it ended up becoming a lot more bleak than what i had in mind yikes...
> 
> my cc is here if you want to drop a message/say hi/cry over onghwang with me !! <https://curiouscat.me/sealfox>


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